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“Only because I’m going to let it,” I reply softly, turning my palm up to interlock our fingers.

Killian raises an eyebrow, leaning his hip against the corner of the desk. “You’re opening the gate for them?”

“I’m giving Gregory precisely what he wants,” I say, smoothly. “If I reinforce the wards, the bastard will simply stand at the edge of the woods for weeks, throwing money at more hired men. I am done waiting, Killian. Tonight, we end this.”

Through the soul link, the Devil Dog stirs from the darkness in the corner of the room, its towering shadowy form solidifying into the shape of a massive, wolf-like hound. Its bares its sharp teeth, letting out a low growl.

Hungry, the beast whispers into our minds, its dark anticipation matching my own.

“So what’s the play?” Killian asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “We don’t have an army of demons, not that we need one.”

“You’re right. We don’t need one,” I say, standing up from the desk and bringing Bellamy with me. “Those men Gregory hired are paid guns. They’re mortals taking a paycheck, clueless about what actually lives here. They expect a one tiny human hiding in an old house. They don’t expect a demon and his cryptid.”

Bellamy smiles. It’s a slow, dangerous, beautiful expression that makes my pulse spike and my cock hard. “You’re going to scare them off.”

“We’re going to play with the corrupt and break their minds,” I correct gently. “Killian, you take the western treeline while I cover the east. We don’t need to spill their blood unless they force our hand. We use raw darkness, pitch-black illusions, glowing eyes in the trees, and phantom roars echoing directly inside their skulls. Everyone in town knows the lore surrounding the cryptid, but these men don’t believe in monsters. So, we’ll give them something real to fear. When the darkness starts moving and breathing around them, those hired men will throw down their weapons and run for their lives.”

“And Gregory?” Killian asks, his smirk returning.

“We leave him a path,” I say, my crimson eyes flaring with malice. “We herd him and two friends straight through the front gates, up the driveway, and into the grand foyer. I want them isolated, ready to piss themselves, and standing right where my mate can watch them die.”

Killian nods, bowing his head slightly. “Understood. I’ll get into position at the lower gate.” With another sharp ripple of black smoke, he vanishes from the room.

I turn to Bellamy, pulling him into my arms. I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, resting my forehead against his. The rapid, rhythmic thud of his heart pounds against my chest.

“Stay inside until I give the signal,” I whisper. “The inner wards will protect the manor. Once the hired men are scattered, I will bring Gregory to you.”

Bellamy reaches up, his fingers gripping my horns, his green eyes burning with something I can’t place. “Be careful out there, Vesper. Don’t make me wait too long.”

“Don’t worry, little bird. I’ll bring back your prize,” I murmur against his lips, giving him a brief, intense kiss. “A few more minutes and you’ll get your revenge.” These past few nights have tested every ounce of my discipline. The shared memories bleeding through our bond show me exactly what my mate endured at his hands. Gregory Jones deserves to burn in hell, and I’m going to make sure he gets there.

I wrap the wolf pelt around my shoulders, embracing the extra surge of dark magic that flares through me with the cryptid so close. Shadow tendrils spill from my skin, cascading around my body like a cloak of liquid pitch, while my crimson eyes glow brighter in the gloom. The Devil Dog steps alongside me, its shadowy limbs blending into mine until we become a single, towering force of pure destruction.

Far down the mountain, a sharp, metallic screech echoes through the dark sky as Gregory thinks his relic finally fractured the outermost boundary ward.

I smile into the dark, letting the shadows swallow me whole as I step out into the cold woods, ready to hunt.

***

The moment my boots strike the damp pine needles outside the estate’s outer perimeter, the freezing night air hits my lungs, making me feel rejuvenated and alive. The chill is crisp and sharp, smelling of wet bark and coastal fog. But beneath the natural scent of my territory is a foul stench that lingers on the wind. It’s the unmistakable stench of sweat, and panic mixed with the acrid scent of Gregory’s little relic sizzling at my wards.

A dark, intoxicating thrill flares hot in my chest, making my demon core hum with a predatory hunger.

It has been too damn long since I last went to hunt. Years since I let the cold, refined lord of the crossroads step aside to let the true monster out. Beside me, the Devil Dog materializes out of the pine shadows, its massive obsidian frame stretching out through the lower canopy. Its glowing blue eyes ignite in the blackness, and a subtle vibration rattles through its ribs, echoing straight through our link.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. The beast rumbles in my mind, its savage glee matching my own word for word.

Patience, I answer back, my voice dripping with morbid amusement. We don’t slaughter them all at once, little cryptid. We break them first.

We slip through the trees like ink spilling through water, moving down the hill until the glow of Gregory’s flashlight beams cut through the dense fog. Through the redwoods, I spot them. Six men in heavy coats, rifles with nervous, trembling hands. In the center of the clearing stands Gregory, his face pale and slick with cold sweat, clutching the artifact like a lifeline.

Beside Gregory stands his second in command, Kyle Lackey. He’s a foul, heavy-set man holding the leashes of two snarling tracking hounds. The dogs are clearly mistreated, making my hatred for the man even more pronounced.

I drop my shoulders into the shadow-plane, using my demon sight. The world shifts into shades of stark ash and crimson, illuminating the invisible aura clinging to every living soul in the clearing.

These men are ordinary mortals taking a paycheck, but their souls are coated in varying shades of gray. Greed, cruelty, and casual violence. Yet Lackey’s aura burns with a vile, black rot. It’s thick, oily, and reeking of sadistic joy. I can see the stains on his soul from every time he locked my mate in a dark room down, every bruise he left on Bellamy’s skin, and every cruel smile he gave while enjoying another human’s pain.

A vicious, predatory smile pulls at my lips.